


Not In His Plans

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Completely Unrelated Alternate Universes - A Compilation [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars era, F/M, Gen, M/M, not long after Crisis on Naboo, somewhat one-sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin Skywalker has never been a perfect Jedi. The forbidden has always called to him, and always he has answered that call. Can he convince another to follow him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[TRANSLATION]Not In His Plans超纲了啊](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8797873) by [isaakfvkampfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaakfvkampfer/pseuds/isaakfvkampfer)



The adoring masses screamed his name.

He barely noticed.

His attention belonged solely to the young Jedi Knight staring down at him, less than a half-meter away, a faint smirk on the tanned face. Anakin held himself firmly, shoulders back and chin up, clearly struggling to contain his pride and enjoyment of the attention bestowed upon him. Beside the fledgling Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi tempered his enthusiasm with a small shake of his head. Obi-Wan stood stiffly as well, but for a far different reason. Selfless Jedi were not supposed to revel in hero-worship.

Palpatine smothered a snort of derision as he reached for the medallions at his side. Anakin was as far from selfless as Palpatine was from the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan simply could not see what lay before his bearded face: Anakin lived for recognition, for acknowledgement. No amount of simpering Jedi meditation would remove such a desire.

And he knew exactly how to inflame such a need. Palpatine found it laughably easy to convince the Jedi of the necessity for public ceremonies like this one. The morale of the Republic itself depended on the creation of heroes and symbols that beings of all species and planets could rally behind. He knew Obi-Wan hated the idea with all the righteous indignation that the Jedi Order could muster, and he knew that Anakin secretly loved it.

Consequently, he bestowed a proud smile of his own on the Jedi Knight as he draped the medallion over the shaggy head. “You see,” he murmured into the young man’s ear as the infatuated crowds screamed their delight, “I was right to choose you for this mission. No other could have accomplished so much in so short a time.”

“Your Excellency,” and Anakin’s face flamed a deep red as he bowed, “I am honored, I - ” he stopped abruptly and bowed again in a fluster of emotions. He was both honored and pleased, Palpatine observed as Anakin backed away and Obi-Wan stepped forward to receive his award. He slipped the medallion around Obi-Wan’s neck with a meaningless comment about Jedi service and the Republic’s eternal gratitude.

Obi-Wan could not care less about praise, and in so being, he lost the path to his former padawan’s soul. Praise dropped from the Jedi Master’s lips with far less regularity than exhortations for improvement. Over these many years, Palpatine’s subtle encouragement led Anakin to seek him out rather than his old master. After each mission, after he debriefed the Council, Anakin would invariably appear in Palpatine’s office to agonize over each detail. Invariably in turn, Palpatine would make himself available to extend endless emotional support and practical guidance. Anakin had come to depend on him.

Palpatine reached out and turned both men gently to face the audience, which erupted into new cheers. Soon, the whole galaxy would know. Already, every suggestion and question that Palpatine offered sank into the young man’s mind with all the gravitas of a sacred creed. From time to time, he heard his own sage wisdom coming from the young Jedi almost verbatim as he argued before the Council, and he smiled to think of Anakin like that. His representative. His emissary. The whole process only required an official stamp of approval.

Tear Anakin apart, and two facets of his personality would remain: the need for approval and a desperate desire for power. Loyal to his friends and not to abstract principles, Anakin proved the opposite of a true Jedi Knight. Palpatine often mused in his meditations how the boy might have been different had he not been born a slave. Tamer, most certainly, and somehow less. He shuddered to think of Anakin as a dead-eyed Jedi Knight, carrying out the Council’s every wish with serene and blind obedience.

Anakin had lived. Loved. Hated. Created. Destroyed. He proved unique among ten thousand Jedi, and yet they continued to ignore his galactic potential. For all their power and foolishness, Palpatine nearly pitied them. The Order nursed its own devastation close to its breast, oblivious to the fangs dripping with deadly poison. They trusted in the Prophecy, in the ludicrous idea that the Force would inevitably balance in some great master plan that could never be fully comprehended. The Jedi waited for their fate; the Sith created theirs. Who then was truly the weaker?

Palpatine followed the two powerful Jedi from the platform, staring at the backs of their heads with detached amusement. His guards filed in behind and on both sides, flanking him and covering him from access to the screaming citizens of Coruscant, as though the massive force shields that encased the staging area were not enough. Ahead, the two Jedi shifted left to return to the Temple.

He moved right to step into the Chancellor’s private shuttle, which would return him to the Senate Office Building for additional promotional publicity with several influential senators, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Surprised and inwardly rankling at the touch, Palpatine turned and found Anakin at his side. Anakin shared his surprise, hastily pulling his hand away from the dark veda cloth as though shocked at his own audacity. Palpatine forced a gentle smile. “Anakin, what can I do for you?” He waved back one faceless enthusiastic guard, who had stepped forward to intervene.

“Chancellor, I was wondering if, if I might speak with you later,” Anakin cleared his throat. “About the mission. It’s been over a month.”

“Only that long?” Palpatine let a small amount of astonishment seep into his voice. “It’s felt like a lifetime, to be honest, Anakin. You might not believe the intrigues I’ve faced in the meantime, without your refreshingly straightforward advice to lean upon. It will be good to hear directly from the front once again.”

Anakin looked at the floor, absurdly pleased. “I like to help out however I can, Your Excellency.”

“Your service is invaluable to me,” Palpatine told him, patting the leather over one broad shoulder. “You bring a focus to the Republic and to myself that cannot be underestimated. I have several necessary engagements this afternoon, Anakin, but I would be happy to debrief the mission with you tonight.”

“Thank you, sir!” Anakin’s expression betrayed his satisfaction. In the Force, he gleamed with the energy of a sunburst. Palpatine, momentarily arrested by the sensation, shook himself free.

“I’ll have my assistant contact the Temple when I’ve completed the interviews. In the meantime, enjoy your victory, Anakin,” he motioned to the bustling crowd. “You’ve earned it.”

The look Obi-Wan sent him across the landing platform might have been described as a scowl, but Palpatine pointedly ignored him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine just doesn't get it.

The evening began routinely enough. Anakin spent the first hour pacing back and forth across the wide expanse of his office, hands clenching and fingers splaying as he relayed the details of the mission. Palpatine watched him through the eyes of the Dark Side, noticing how the young man held himself rigidly, as though he expected a battle at any moment. His presence in the Force bubbled with barely suppressed emotions. 

He smiled to think of it. Placing the Jedi on the front lines of the war had rearranged their peaceful mentality into something resembling proactive aggression. Even if his plans for an Empire never came to fruition – hypothetically speaking of course – the Jedi would be destroyed by the simple existence of this war. There was simply no way he could lose. 

“Sir, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Anakin’s voice broke into his thoughts. “This last mission made me realize some very important things.”

“Oh?” Palpatine raised one silver eyebrow and sipped carefully at his small cup of wine. “Reports tell me that your actions were nothing short of heroic. What happened to create this rather sobering introspection?” 

The young Jedi sank into one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk, his eyes dark and closed. “Too much to keep track of, that’s for kriffing sure,” he grumbled, and then his face went pale. “I’m sorry, sir, I shouldn’t have said that!”

Palpatine studied his stricken expression with nothing more than slight widening of his eyes. He leaned forward and slid the glass back onto the smooth surface. “I imagine you hear much worse out there, on the battlefields.” 

Anakin blushed a deep red. “Ah, yeah, I guess I do. But I shouldn’t have sworn, not in front of you. Not here,” he waved at their crimson surroundings. “This isn’t a battlefield.”

To the contrary, my uncouth friend, Palpatine thought. After all, the true battle was unfolding here, the battle for the singular soul of one Anakin Skywalker. It would be a massacre. 

Anakin shifted uncomfortably in his chair in the extended silence. 

Palpatine let him squirm for a while longer, until he finally tilted his head and inquired, politely, genteelly, as though his words didn’t actually matter, “How do you ever keep it all straight, Anakin?” 

Anakin’s turn came to look surprised. “Keep what all?” 

“Diplomat. Warrior. Peacekeeper. Spiritualist,” Palpatine ticked the list off on his slim fingers. “The expectations they place on you. The roles they ask you to play, and all at your age. You’ve not even a quarter of a century in this galaxy, Anakin, and you carry the weight of us all.”

Anakin stared down at the floor and mumbled, “I’m a Jedi, sir… We’re trained to do that sort of thing,” and his humor fell flat, and he knew it, grimacing. 

The politician suppressed a smirk. “My point was this, Anakin: I don’t mind that you curse in front of me. You have much larger concerns. Besides, after days of being cooped up with suspiciously cooperative senators, your authenticity is…refreshing.” 

Anakin met his eyes then, and the soppy gratitude in the bright blue orbs sickened him. “Thank you, sir, for understanding. But I don’t want to curse in front of you. It feels like… like I’m spoiling one of the last few good things in this place.”

How he wanted to laugh! “I’m far from perfect, Anakin. You know, I’ve been known to say a few choice words now and then, when the situation calls for it.” 

Anakin did laugh then, a sharp bark. “I don’t believe you, sir. Not for a minute. I can’t imagine you saying…that.” 

“You might be surprised at what I can say...” After a short pause, Palpatine found himself wanting to tug the Force close and examine the currents, because the young man was still staring at him with that fixated single-mindedness. Usually Anakin met his gaze for a brief moment and then moved on, always in motion, always looking away first. Now he sat quietly in the chair, but he sat straighter than before, and the Force was fairly humming around him. 

The silence grew somewhat awkward, and the Chancellor pushed back from his desk to stand. Anakin hastily copied his motions and came to attention. Palpatine wondered at his uncharacteristic quietness, at the way his gaze tracked him attentively as he stepped around the wide expanse of desk and stopped an arms-length away. 

The air buzzed with undefined anticipation, and hesitation too, as if Anakin were struggling to come to a decision. Palpatine barely resisted the urge to tap more deeply into the Dark Side, to discover the meaning of this uncertainty. However, to do so would endanger everything he had achieved to this point. Reveal himself too early, and the delicate balance would shatter. He had not gotten to where he was by tossing caution to the wind. 

“Are you all right, my friend?” he finally asked, casting his voice low and concerned. 

“I… I think…” Anakin snapped his mouth shut and swallowed hard. Then he stepped closer, until barely a score of centimeters separated him from the Chancellor. Palpatine felt his lips wrinkle back in a snarl at the spatial invasion, instantly forcing them to conform into a genial, questioning smile. The Force grew in turmoil around him, Anakin’s presence glowing with an intensity sharp enough to burn. Palpatine pulled the icy shadows closer, nearly backed up to get away before he was seared beyond recognition. 

“Sir…” Anakin started again and trailed off just as abruptly. 

His emotions were an indeterminate jumble, shifting so quickly and leaving Palpatine with the sense that the ground might suddenly give way. He sensed a powerful tension unlike anything before, and it made him faintly nervous if he were honest with himself. He tilted his head up and caught the younger man’s gaze. “Anakin…”

A fire smoldered in those normally clear blue eyes, the smoke creating an unnatural haze that obscured the Jedi’s thoughts from the Sith Lord. Palpatine froze, mouth suddenly dry. Even without dipping into the Force, he sensed danger, though the feeling was nothing yet approaching physical harm. He wondered for a terrible moment if Anakin suspected, if Anakin knew… He crossed his left hand behind his back before Anakin could see the twitching of his fingers, the desperate urge to call forth his innate defenses. 

Anakin refused to back away or look away. He stared down, breathing softly through his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice dropped lower, becoming a husky growl, “Chancellor, you asked me once what I really wanted in my life, last year.” 

Palpatine suppressed his more worrisome thoughts, searched his memory, and replied softly as though confronting a wild tusk-cat, “Yes, and I recall that you hadn’t yet made up your mind. I take it something has changed.” 

Anakin still had not moved away, the heat of his emotions blaring through the Force. “On that planet, I faced things, sir. Things you couldn’t imagine. I saw things too,” he looked down for the first time, drawing his strength around him like a shroud. After a silent moment that stretched into the infinite, he looked back up, licking his lower lip nervously. “You know Obi-Wan and I almost died. I saw what I really wanted. All this time, it’s been right in front of me. I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if… if…”

Palpatine suddenly realized, He’s talking about Padme Amidala. He’s finally confessing to me his deepest, darkest secret. How delicious. He smiled faintly. “Inaction can take the best of us, Anakin. It’s never too late to repair our mistakes.” 

Anakin moved a centimeter closer. “I’m glad you agree, sir. And I’ll never know if it was a mistake until I try.”

Palpatine turned his head to the side, uncomfortable with the Jedi’s physical proximity and hoping to clear his head of the repugnant emotions that poured from the other man. The air was heavy with expectation, the light and dark mingling together and creating a hideous nausea that threatened his balance. He focused on the twist of sculpture behind Anakin, the blade that waited within for the perfect moment. The sight made him smile; he had always known what he wanted. Now Anakin needed his help in the process. “And? What have you discovered, Anakin? What do you want?” 

He was not prepared for the answer. 

“I want you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected developments have a bad habit of messing up one's carefully constructed plans.

“What?”

Anakin’s mumbled words did not fully register until the Chancellor felt a powerful hand along his jaw and the sweep of a full mouth covering his own as Anakin boldly leaned forward and closed the distance between them. The young knight seized him by the shoulders, and Palpatine was too stunned to offer any resistance. His own hands lifted aimlessly, fingers curling to deliver an automatic response and then falling away in his confusion.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He tried to think, to organize his mind, to pull away, but Anakin’s blinding Force presence overwhelmed him in a heartbeat of madness, crushing his ability to strategize, to create opportunity, and stealing the air from his lungs. Palpatine tried to take a breath, but Anakin seized the opportunity of parted lips and slipped his tongue into the older man’s mouth, curling the soft weapon around his front teeth and tugging gently, tilting his head up into the kiss. 

Palpatine could not help the gasp that slid from his throat at this intimate invasion. His calculating mind reeled, for he had calculated nothing of the sort into his plans. It brushed against the animal in him, the intensity of Anakin’s power, this close. It galled him too, his lack of control as Anakin probed against him in the Force. These feelings that poured from the boy were impulsive, instinctive, volcanic, and in direct opposition to everything he was. He struggled to contain the power of the Dark Side, to keep his own signature buried deep beneath the empty veneer of the Chancellor. 

Glacial. Insidious. Heartless. 

The boy’s tongue pushed against his, and he recoiled at last. The feeling was alien and unwanted. He pushed Anakin back with both hands, and the Jedi reluctantly released his lips. They both took in air for a long moment, breathing heavily, the young Jedi Knight still gripping him by the shoulders. Palpatine felt his mind begin to form once again, his thoughts shifting to adapt. How badly he wanted to open himself to the Dark Side, to gauge the reaction of the Force to this unforeseen development, but the boy’s presence burned too brightly. In uncertainty, he could risk nothing. 

“Anakin,” he inquired softly, injecting a note of indignation, “What is the meaning of this?”

The younger man’s eyes had grown crystal clear, and now his desire was evident to see along with the dancing amusement that infused the older man with a helpless irritation. “Thought you appreciated straightforward action, sir,” Anakin eyed him ravenously, appreciatively, and for the first time in many, many years, Palpatine felt an unplanned hot flush travel across his face. 

“I would hardly call this straightforward, Anakin,” Palpatine attempted to comprehend the emotions that the young Jedi was projecting directly at him. He sensed immense danger here, as well as opportunity. But which action would lead to which result? He stalled with a soft, nervous chuckle. “I would say this complicates matters quite a bit.” 

Anakin’s lips parted in a wide, almost devious grin. “I think it simplifies things, sir, at least for us. I’ve always admired you, and recently I’ve found that I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Isn’t obsession rather an un-Jedi-like emotion?” Palpatine reached up and gently detached the Jedi’s hands from his arms. “I can’t imagine the Council would be pleased to find out - ”

“The Council doesn’t have to know everything that goes on,” Anakin interrupted, a tendril of possessive heat slithering into his low words. Actually, the Council knew very little at all, Palpatine thought and moved to stand in front of the wide vista window. The Sith Lord could sense the other’s hard gaze, the sharp flame focused on his thin frame, and he suppressed a shiver. 

Such dark emotions! Such forbidden desires could bind the boy even closer to his destiny, or it could destroy them both. The Grand Plan held no place for dalliances of this nature, and he himself could not honestly say that he relished the thought. His tastes had always geared toward the wonderfully diverse women of the galaxy, but Anakin possessed the unique ability to turn everything in the galaxy upside down. Inside out. Unnatural to natural. 

He shook his head again and spoke to the window, refusing to glance back. “It’s not appropriate, Anakin. We stand in far different arenas. You are a Jedi. I am the Supreme Chancellor…”

“And I know what I want, Chancellor,” Anakin’s voice sounded from close behind, and he resisted the urge to turn. “You’ve blamed the Jedi many times for holding back, for not experiencing what the rest of the galaxy does. I can prove you wrong, if you’ll give me half a chance. I’ve always wanted to...”

Palpatine stared at his faint reflection in the window. The shiny reflection of the Jedi’s eyes gleamed over his shoulder. “Wanting is not the Jedi way, Anakin.” How ironic that right now he almost agreed with his mortal enemies. Perhaps this was why they clung to their Jedi Code with such stubborn blindness. It was less messy…

“I don’t care.” Suddenly the younger man was at his side, snaking his muscular arms around the Chancellor’s waist and tugging the politician flush against his solid torso. Palpatine flinched, bringing his hands up to Anakin’s broad chest in silent protest. Anakin ignored the motion, leaning down, bending him slightly back and capturing his lips in a superheated kiss for a second time. His hands clutched tighter around the Chancellor’s hips, twisting in the draping folds of the long black-green robes. 

Palpatine felt the first whisperings of anger at this treatment, and he pushed back, biting at Anakin’s lower lip. The young Jedi hissed with delight and redoubled his efforts, forcing the Chancellor’s mouth open roughly and plundering its depths with his tongue. The Sith Lord nipped at the appendage, drawing a tangible trickle of crimson, tasting the salty sourness and drawing satisfied power from it. 

Anakin yelped softly into his mouth and pulled back, using the fingers of one hand to feel gently along his tongue, the other hand of durasteel still firmly planted on the older man. The expression on his face could have been wounded, but Palpatine was unmoved, his victory nearly complete. He needed time to think and meditate. “Anakin, this is not the right - ”

He cut himself off with a sharp hiss of breath as Anakin moved in again, this time pressing his lips against the edge of Palpatine’s jaw, along the side of his neck. The soft moisture slid lower on his neck, and the pressure became almost painfully unbearable. His head fell helplessly back to give Anakin clearer access. The Force hummed faintly with some dangerous, slick edge of dark promise. “Anakin,” he growled, feeling the young Jedi stiffen all along his body, muscles going taut with triumphant pleasure. “Anakin…”

Anakin responded with all the enthusiasm of a young man in his prime, fingers gripping tighter on the cloth over his waist, mouth covering the soft indent at his collar bone, just above the clasp that held his high collar in place. Palpatine felt his own pulse beating wildly under the hot wetness. 

It must have been the heady presence of Anakin’s illicit desire in the Force, because he had never experienced such terribly alive emotions that now gripped him. In fact, he was not entirely certain where his own thoughts ended and Anakin’s began. They melded together with sickening ease, and each time the light brushed against him, he wanted to vomit. But darkness existed here too, darkness of such levels that left him fighting his own growing arousal, left him wanting nothing more than to writhe his way into its dark embrace, to let the Dark Side have its way with him, consequences be damned! Never had he hovered so close to the edge of his iron-willed control. 

Anakin’s teeth nipped gently at the base of his neck, and he shivered as the knight whispered, “Please, Chancellor. I know you want me too…”

And he did, curse him. Just not in the way that Anakin thought. He would have had the boy, mind and soul, never suspecting that Anakin would offer his body as well. His thoughts unraveled when Anakin lifted one hand to fumble at the small clasp that held his collar. The soft plinking of the metal on the smooth tile floor sparked a wave of realization in him. He seized the knight’s hand in both of his. 

And then he gasped, strangling, as the Dark Side suddenly roiled in deadly warning, screaming into the void that had caught fire, the black hole that now flickered along the edge with shadowed flames. 

Palpatine felt all the air sucked from his lungs as the visions descended in a horrific collision of pin-wheeling futures. “Chancellor!” he heard Anakin call out in the distance, terrified as Palpatine slid boneless to the floor, Anakin gripping at his arms to keep him upright. 

Danger! Stop… Stop everything before you are destroyed! We are undone! 

Laughter seeping in from the netherworld, laughter from the shapeless form of his late master, mocking and dark and entirely without humor. He knew that his body had seized up, that Anakin was panicking and calling for assistance from his guards, and he recognized that his visions had not taken him in this way since he was a small boy. 

Serious matters, then. He should really pay attention. The Dark Side had seen fit to send him a warning. Indulge the boy, and pay the price. Thousands of years of planning and plotting and power might be unspooled in the span of days, hours, minutes. The Dark pressed him until he felt he might suffocate. Then the power dissipated as abruptly as it descended. 

Sensation slowly returned to his body, a Red Guard leaning over him, a medpac in hand and a heart-rate monitor pressed to his clothed chest. “I’m all right,” he muttered, shoving the equipment away and sitting up. His head pounded with the beginnings of a migraine. “I just, my knees gave out. Just give me a minute.” 

“Your medical team is on the way,” the guard told him, matter-of-fact. “We’ll need to do a couple tests to make sure, sir.” 

Palpatine eyed him with a cold stare. “In the meantime, why don’t you wait outside until they come? Jedi Skywalker will remain with me if I should require additional assistance. He is well trained in the healing arts.”

The guard was a smart man; he knew an order couched in a suggestion when he heard one. As he retreated reluctantly to the outer atrium of the office, Anakin approached and knelt at the Chancellor’s side, his face a mask of guilty anguish. “Are you all right, Chancellor? What happened to you? I felt something terrible was happening in the Force. I don’t know how to explain it!” 

Palpatine looked away. “On rare occasion, Anakin, I am susceptible to intense episodes. It is an old condition, one to which I have long become accustomed, but I’ve not experienced it for many years.” He reveled in the Jedi’s misery for a long moment, and then added, “It is no fault of yours.”

“I didn’t?” Anakin’s relief flared across the Force and tightened his headache. Palpatine pinched the bridge of his nose and released a long sigh. 

“Of course not,” he resisted the urge to scoff. “I’m not that old, Anakin, and in fact my doctors say I am in peak condition for a man of my years. Regardless, what happened just now was entirely inappropriate, Anakin,” he let the sternness of his voice carry the weight of his words. “It can’t happen again.” 

Anakin looked at his boots, properly chastened. “I’m sorry, Chancellor. I shouldn’t have done that.” But the fire still burned in his eyes when he lifted them again. 

The fire still burned when the medical team entered and whisked him away. 

And the mocking laughter still echoed in his ears.


End file.
